Delusions
by YamiSnuffles
Summary: Adel Hawke goes to spar with Fenris and drags Anders along. Isabela finds a way to make things a bit more interesting. Set between Act 2 and 3. Anders/Hawke with implied Fenris/Isabela.


Originally written quite awhile ago for an Anders prompt group on BSN. It was mostly finished and then forgotten. So, here it is in a finished form.

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><p>Anders trailed just behind Adel as the two of them made their way through the wide lanes of Hightown. The journey from the Hawke Estate to Fenris' mansion wasn't a long one but Anders hated every moment of it. With each step forward he was tempted to just turn on his heel and go home. Or go to the clinic. Anywhere else, really, seemed infinitely preferable at the moment.<p>

Adel slowed to a stop and turned on her heel to face Anders. She arched one, long black eyebrow at him.

"Anders, you're the one who volunteered to come along."

As if he needed reminding. "I did. There's no reason for you to come home bleeding and bruised. And it's not like you can just _not_ train." He picked a loose feather from his pauldrons and twirled it between his thumb and forefinger a moment before dropping it to the ground. "I just don't see why it has to be with _Fenris_. Why not Aveline?"

Adel ran a gloved hand over her face then fixed her brilliant blue eyes back on him.

"If I'm going to become a better fighter, I need to spar with someone who will really challenge me. Fenris is the only one who can do that," she sighed.

Anders sighed as well. He scrubbed absently at the coarse stubble on his chin. That there would be violence in her future had become a fact of Adel's life from the moment she accepted him into it. There would surely be struggle ahead and he knew she should prepare for it as best she could. That was the reasonable part of him speaking. The same part that had volunteered to heal her of any wounds she might get while sparring. The unreasonable part of him was still screaming about it having to be _Fenris_ of all people in Kirkwall.

A small, tired smile flickered on Adel's face. "As much fun as it is to watch a debate work its way through your brain, can we get going? I don't really like loitering outside of the Chantry. Those statues start feeling awfully... judgey."

Anders threw up his hands. "Well, I can hardly argue with that."

They continued on until they reached the large, heavy door to Fenris' mansion. Although she was expected, Adel seemed to think better of just traipsing on in. She knocked hard and only had to wait a moment for it to be answered. To both her and Anders' surprise, though, it wasn't Fenris who answered. Instead a toothy grin shone out from the perpetual gloom of the run down mansion.

"Isabela? What are you doing here?" Adel asked.

"Do you really have to ask, pet? I could spell it out if you'd really like."

The way that Isabela practically purred every word sent a rush of scarlet into Adel's cheeks. She cleared her throat loudly and rubbed the back of her neck. "Is Fenris... available? We were supposed to spar."

Isabela waggled her eyebrows. "Well he's already had a tumble this morning, but he's usually good for at least two rounds. Should I go fetch him?"

"Yes please," Adel mumbled.

She and Anders passed into the house. Not long after, Fenris came trudging into the entrance hall behind a still grinning Isabela.

"What is the mage doing here?" Fenris asked without further preamble.

Adel ignored Anders immediate scowl and responded, "He's here in case things get out of hand. A healer can be handy if things get heated."

"I'll say," Isabela chimed in.

"Shall we get started?" Adel continued, fighting back another furious blush.

"Whenever you're ready," Fenris replied.

At that, Adel dove in. It was only Isabela's extremely quick reflexes that saved her from being caught in the middle. Not something she might have avoided under other circumstances but these weren't really the type of big swords that she fancied. Once out of the fray, the pirate sauntered to the wall where Anders was already sitting at a bench.

For a while the mage and rogue watched in silence. The only sound in the room was the muffled scrape of feet on the dusty floor and the clash of sword pounding sword. It was truly a beautiful, deadly dance. Stabs and counters sent them twirling about each other in a seemingly ceaseless blur of motion.

"This doesn't make you jealous?" Isabela asked.

"What?" Anders shook his head. He'd lost himself watching Adel fight and had actually forgotten there was anyone else there. "No. Why should it? They're sparring not... whatever it is you were doing with him before we showed up."

"It's not so very different. I know you mages aren't very hands on in battle, but it's not like that for the rest of us. In a really good fight you have to read your opponent's body. You have to know it as if it was your own. With the right opponent your bodies move as one. Everything else around you slips away."

With a skill particular to her, Isabela made even the most mundane syllable velvety smooth and suggestive. With fresh eyes, Anders felt compelled to look back onto the fighting pair. It was a simple enough trick to picture Adel's taught skin and muscles through the layers of armor that now covered her. The way she could bend and dodge to counter Fenris was testament enough to her flexibility and strength. She was indeed in synch with the elf's every move. He would step forward in a thrust and she would slide back to parry. There was a clear give and take from both. They were throwing everything they had at each other, until each combatant was covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Anders fidgeted uncomfortably. _Damned Isabela_.

The pirate flashed a predatory grin.

"You see it now, don't you? And that's the same expression he gets during sex. So very determined. It's quite precious, really."

Anders groaned and rubbed his knuckles in his eyes as if he could physically push away the mental images Isabela was inundating him with.

Sure to look down at his boots and nothing else, Anders said, "They argue with each other all the time. She's not... they couldn't be thinking about that. I'd be more willing to bet he's trying to kill her."

Isabela laughed. The light, bubbling sound of it was strange in the midst of clashing metal.

"You hardly have to like each other in order to have sex. You should know that," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "And the kind of tension they have bubbling between each other would probably make it delicious."

Anders grit his teeth. He was determined not to respond. Isabela would just twist anything he said and plant more poisonous thoughts in his mind. He hadn't really been the jealous type before. He'd never allowed himself strong enough feelings for anyone for them to be corrupted that way. Not until Justice. Not until Hawke.

He turned his eyes back onto the sparring pair. Fenris' tattoos were now burning a bright and brutal blue. The light threw wild, shifting shadows throughout the room. It made cruel illusions out of the combatants. Their forms melded together in the shadows, twisting and writhing against each other. Anders grimaced.

"You're delusional," he huffed defiantly.

"I was just having a bit of fun with you but your reaction is making me think maybe I'm on to something," Isabela said. "You'd think they'd let me join? It's been a while since I've had a good three way spar. Or four way if you want to jump into the fray."

Anders' head sunk into his hands. All of this was giving him a headache. The lyrium screaming through Fenris' veins wasn't helping matters. A small spark of blue danced across the skin on his hands.

"Hmm, or five if Justice feels like I need a good smiting," Isabela quipped.

"You're impossible."

"And you used to be much more fun."


End file.
